Tomoe Contemplates
by emptyword
Summary: [Oneshot] Tomoe reflects on the Battousai and her own feelings.


Tomoe Contemplates  
By EmptyWord

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**Author's Notes:** This is my first Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction (if it may even be considered a fanfiction), so please excuse the little mistakes I might have made—though you're welcome to correct them.

I admit, this is not the greatest piece. It's sketchy and could do with a lot more emphasis on some parts, but I didn't exactly write this for other people to enjoy. Rather, I just needed to get it out of my system. That will explain the poor writing. If you haven't been scared off, then feel free to sample this short piece.

**Disclaimer:** _Rurouni Kenshin_ is the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, SPE Visual Works, Anime Works, and others I may have missed. Most emphatically not me.

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Tomoe's POV

I hated him at first. Given the situations, I think I had the right to. He was an assassin for the Ishin Shishi and I worked for the Shensengumi. In fact, he was the Hitokiri Battousai and he was responsible for many deaths on my side.

Battousai. That very name roused awe and fear in everyone. It froze the blood of men. It turned heads and raised silence. Hearing the word made the strongest of warriors tremble and quake. It was stunning, the tremendous power a mere name held.

But, of course, the name symbolized the person, and the Battousai more than deserved such a reputation. He was a killing machine, the best there ever was...and ever will be. Anyone he was assigned to kill never stayed alive. No one could touch him if he didn't want to be touched. No one could leave a mark on him. His sword could be drawn before his opponent flicked an eyelash. It was impossible to escape the Battousai's sword. And he killed, swiftly and cleanly.

I laugh now at the irony of the thought. The first time I met him, I watched the Battousai unveiled in his work. He murdered my fiancé while I watched.

I admit, it wasn't entirely his fault. My fiancé had been assigned by the Shogunate leaders to assassinate him. The Battousai did not have much choice. It was either kill or be killed—as is the case too often these days.

Nevertheless, I cannot be blamed for hating him...though I did not continue to harbor such hate. I doubt anyone could, if they got to know the real person behind the killing machine.

My task was to play up to the Battousai, get close to him, learn his secrets, his weakness, and then, when he wasn't ready, turn the information over to my tribe leaders so that they could get rid of the Battousai once and for all. This task I willingly undertook, for my thoughts were to avenge my fiancé.

However, the tribe leaders had overlooked a possible glitch. What if I should change sides? What if I got to know the Battousai too well and decided to be true friends with him? Not very probable, but possible.

The Battousai is not at all like what everyone thinks. If I told them about the person behind the mask, the people would condemn me for drinking too much sake. I suppose it is rather difficult to believe that a killing machine could actually be a kind and selfless fifteen-year-old. Then again, that is exactly what the Battousai is.

I tried to remain cold-hearted towards him, but it was impossible. I found myself continuously reminding myself that he was my fiancé's murderer and the whole reason for my staying close to him was to eventually kill him. How often have I taken my dagger up while he sleeps. How often have I tried to convince myself to kill him. And how often have I backed away from his sleeping figure, unable to bring the dagger down. He looked so peaceful, sleeping soundlessly at the window, his head resting on his arms. His face was young and free of worry, his eyes gently shut; he was no more than a boy, who had had his innocence stripped from him.

I have seen him after he kills. He comes back with blood on his hands and face, his eyes dull and lifeless. As soon as he gets into the house, he goes immediately to the water bucket and begins washing his hands. He doesn't just wash his hands as most people do; he drags his hands across each other, as though trying to scrape the skin off. He scrubs his hands for two or three hours, and even if they get raw, he continues at it. It is terrifying to watch him, his empty eyes staring unblinkingly into the pinkish water before him.

I confronted him one of those nights, while he was washing his hands.

"Kenshin," I murmured, for I had long since begun to refer to him by his real name and not just as the Battousai.

He paused in his scrubbing and raised his head slightly.

I still remember the look of his shadowed eyes, and from that time forward, I ceased to fear him. Or perhaps that is not entirely true. I still feared him at times, but no longer just because he was the Battousai and thus, evoked fear in everyone. The look of utter defeat in his eyes convinced me finally that he was not a killing machine; he was human and could also be defeated. The Battousai was just the name, not the reality. However, with the relief that he was human also came the compassion. He hated what he was doing, but he thought it was the right thing to do. He hated killing, but he believed it might help bring about a peaceful era. I have never understood his logic, but I understood the confusion and mixed feelings. Kami-sama only knows how confused I was about my feelings for him.

From that point on, I could never think of him without a well of emotions bubbling within me. Every time I saw him, I wanted to go to him, laugh with him—not that he smiled much—, talk with him, make him happy. But I also wanted to curse him, scream at him for killing my fiancé. Before I could do anything however, he'd walk off alone, silently and coolly with large, haunted eyes. Then, all I want to do is comfort him. I couldn't bear to watch him like that. It tore my heart apart, each time he returned from an assassination and commenced to scrub his hands raw. Though I sometimes wondered why I ever cared, I _did _care and I still do. I had fallen in love a second time, with the Hitokiri Battousai, my fiancé's murderer.

And now, here I am, living with him at an ordinary village, as his newly wed wife under a fake marriage.

The Ishin Shishi had been fooled by Iizuka, a Shensengumi member who had been—and still is, in fact—spying on them. One night, he secretly planned an attack on the Ishin Shishi and slaughtered countless numbers of them. The ones left alive were scattered. The leader barely had time to talk with Kenshin before he had to run off and hide.

"You must go into hiding as well," the leader had warned Kenshin, "They will try to find you and kill you, the legendary Battousai. I have found a cottage at an inconspicuous village for you. Tomoe," he'd said to me, "You will go with him. A married couple appears less suspicious than a single man."

So I had agreed to go with Kenshin and hide with him, as a "married couple." When we were married at the village, both of us knew it was only temporarily. It wasn't a true marriage. Yet, I think the both of us pretended it was something more than an act. We both wished it were real, that we were truly bound to each other from then on.

"Tomoe?"

I jump to my feet, startled from my thoughts. When I see Kenshin standing in the doorway, I cannot keep a smile from touching my face. He looks so handsome, standing there with light from the outside pooling across his hair and shoulders. His thick coppery-red hair is pulled back into a ponytail, swaying in the light breeze. His blue eyes are shining with a new happiness, and on his lips is a smile matching my own.

"Lost in your thoughts again?" he teases, extending a hand toward me.

I lay my hand in his, delighting in his firm grip and cheerful voice. He has changed so much; the mask is off and the real Kenshin Himura is finally free to greet the world. He smiles so much more now, and the cold steely glint in his eyes has been replaced with a warm glow. He is finally truly happy... He is right; I do think a lot. Laughing, I throw myself into his arms.

"Kenshin!" I cry out in joy, overwhelmed by the intensity of my love for him.

He wraps his arms around me and I lay my head down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It is strong and steady, assuring me that he is well.

I close my eyes, content with life. Don't get me wrong. Our lives have been harsh and fraught with grief. My husband is the Hitokiri Battousai and with that name comes much trouble and bloodshed. But for now, he is Kenshin Himura, and we have a moment of peace together.

Fin

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Any comments, questions, corrections, or info would be appreciated!

Lady E


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